


Sometimes One is Better than Two

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Gift Fic, M/M, Pre-Iron Man 1, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry," Clint says politely, "but just to confirm – our reservation is for a double, right? Queen beds?"</p><p>The clerk's smile freezes on his face, and Phil gets a sinking feeling in his stomach as the kid taps at his keyboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes One is Better than Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdwegian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For Nerdwegian, for her birthday, and because she is awesome. She asked for trope fic, and I hope I've provided. Happy birthday, hon!

 

"Here you are, gentlemen. Room 783, elevators on your right, vending machines are at the end of the hall."

The young man -- his nametag says Hunter -- gives them a practiced Customer Service smile as he hands over their keycards, but Phil is only half paying attention, because Clint is frowning at something on the clerk's screen. Something only he can see, as the screen is angled in such a way that only someone with Hawkeye's vision could read it.

"I'm sorry," Clint says politely, "but just to confirm – our reservation is for a double, right? Queen beds?"

Hunter's smile freezes on his face, and Phil gets a sinking feeling in his stomach as the kid taps at his keyboard.

"I'm so sorry, sirs," Hunter says in a hushed voice. "It looks like your reservation was accidentally entered as a room with a single king."

"Well, you can change it, right? Shouldn't be a problem." Clint's smile is charming, but the clerk glances between him and Phil, and visibly gulps.

"N-normally that would be the case, yes, sir, but with the convention going on right now, we're, um, we are booked solid."

The electronics convention that starts tomorrow is the reason Clint and Phil are in town. They've both recently been promoted – Clint to level five, Phil to level six – and this solo mission is somewhat of a reward. Phil hesitates to call it a milk run – that's just asking for trouble – but, well, that's what it is. They're here to make sure AIM isn't using this convention as a recruiting opportunity.

Clint glances at Phil for guidance on how to act. They could check out, try to find a room somewhere else, but Phil is tired, and doing that will make them more memorable in the clerk's eyes than they already are. Their stock in trade is in being as unmemorable as possible.

Not that Phil believes Clint Barton is unmemorable to anyone who has ever met him. Phil himself is another story, but his blandness is something that he has carefully cultivated.

He smiles tiredly at Hunter. "We'll make it work," he says. He senses rather than sees Clint freeze behind him.

"I'm so sorry, here, have some vouchers for a free breakfast in our restaurant, and – and some coupons for our spa."

He shoves them at Clint, who takes them with a nod, and they are already walking away from the desk when he calls out behind them.

"Sorry!"

Clint just raises a hand.

The elevator ride is quiet, but Phil can feel the tension that's slowly growing between them. He's not looking forward to the coming night. His attraction to Clint is hard enough to hide when they're not _sharing a damn bed_ , for God's sake.

As soon as they get to the room, and the door closes behind them, Clint says, "I'll take the floor, sir."

Phil raises an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous, Barton – it's a king size bed. This op may not require our most elaborate skill sets, but we'd be foolish to go into it unrested."

Clint nods uncertainly, and Phil feels the first stirrings of alarm.

"Agent Barton, if you feel coerced –"

"What?" Clint blurts, wide-eyed. "No! I – no. We'll be fine."

"You're sure."

"Yes, sir." Clint smiles reassuringly. "I'll try not to kick too hard, sir."

"And I'll attempt not to steal the blankets. Now, let's go through the intel one more time…"

They're busy the rest of the night with mission prep, and by the time they retire, Phil is too tired after the long day of travel and prep to worry about sharing a bed. They settle into opposite sides of the bed, rolling onto their sides so they are back to back with a foot of space between them, Phil facing the door, Clint facing the window.

Phil falls asleep before he can finish a single mental run through of tomorrow's plan.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Waking is slow. Phil feels weighed down, heavy, but instead of panicking him, it makes him feel… secure.

It's early still, just past dawn – too early even for his alarm -- and Phil drifts, half asleep.

He's being held, he realizes with a sleepy smile. Spooned. A leg thrown over his, an arm around him, holding him close. Gentle breaths ruffle his hair and tickle his neck, and Phil snuggles back into the solid wall of heat and muscle behind him.

His ass fits snugly into the curve of the other man's hips, and Phil wiggles a little, enjoying the feeling. It's been a long time – too long – since anyone cuddled him like this. He's missed it. He brings his hand up to stroke the arm across his chest. It's familiar, strong and well-muscled, veins easy to trace with a fingertip, and Phil recognizes it. He's spent _years_ trying not to stare too obviously at it.

 _Clint,_ Phil realizes with a frown, waking up just a little bit more. _Clint is holding me._

His heart rate picks up at the idea, and he blinks sleepily. There's a slight change in breathing behind him, the limbs that cradle him stilling as Clint wakes up. He buries his nose in the hair at the nape of Phil's neck, breathing deeply.

"Mmm, Phil," he rasps happily, and Phil's eyes fly open just as Clint freezes.

They spring apart in a flurry of blankets and flailing limbs. Wide-eyed, they stare at each other across the bed in the dim morning light.

Clint breaks first, looking away as he scrubs a hand over his face. Phil reaches over to snap on the bedside lamp.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I did that," Clint mumbles, one hand over his face, the other in his hair. "I…"

Clint looks horrified, and Phil does his best to hide how much that hurts.

He reaches out with his hand to reassure Clint, but Clint flinches at the movement, and Phil snatches his hand back, heart breaking for Clint, for how many times he's borne the brunt of someone's anger.

"It's okay, Barton. Clint. It's okay. I understand, it was just an accident. It didn't mean anything," Phil tells him with what he hopes is a calm and soothing smile.

Total devastation ravages Clint's face, but only for a fleeting second. Then it's gone, so fast Phil half wonders if it was just a trick of the light.

"Right," Clint says softly. "Just an accident. Meant nothing."

Phil can't ignore that split-second look, or the way Clint sounded so happy saying his name – or how good it felt to be held that way, the way his heart sped up when he realized who was holding him. His hopes are rising, and he knows he can't hide from this, not anymore.

"Clint," he says, and he wants to reach out, wants to touch Clint, comfort him, but he holds back. "Do you… would you want it to mean something?"

"What?" asks Clint, wary and confused, his shoulders hunched. Phil takes a deep breath, forces himself to go on.

"Because… because I do. Want it to mean something. I – well, I enjoyed it. Being held like that. By you."

Clint is staring at him now, his features softened by disbelief, and maybe... _maybe that's hope_ , Phil thinks, and it gives him the courage to keep going.

"I'd – I'd like it if it happened again. And maybe more. I mean – " Phil feels himself flush and bites back a curse. "Not just the physical side of it, obviously. I'd like – mmmph!"

He gets no further, suddenly flat on his back, Clint solid and heavy atop him, his hands in Phil's hair, lips warm and firm against Phil's.

Phil gasps in surprise and Clint deepens the kiss, groaning into it, shivering as Phil's hands slide up his arms. Phil cradles his head with one hand, the other gripping the firm muscles of Clint's arm. They bunch and flex under his touch, and he moans, holding on tighter.

Pulling back with a gasp, Phil sucks in air, keening softly as Clint kisses his way down Phil's jawline, nipping at the soft skin of his neck.

"God, Phil… yes… I want this. Want you. So much," Clint rasps between kisses, and Phil trembles at the sound of his name on Clint's lips. "You feel so good… I can't believe…"

"Me either," Phil says breathlessly as Clint's hand slides under his shirt, fingers unerringly finding his nipple and stroking it roughly. "Jesus, Clint! Oh, God, please..."

Phil tucks his hand into the waistband of Clint's thin sleep pants, palming the firm muscle of Clint's ass. Clint moans and presses closer, rocking against Phil's hip as he catches Phil's mouth in another hungry kiss.

They startle apart as Phil's alarm goes off, and Phil stares at Clint, unable to look away. He's wide-eyed and flushed, his hair in delicious disarray, and it takes everything Phil has not to pull Clint back into his arms.

He reaches for his phone, shutting off the alarm, taking a deep breath and pulling himself together.

Clint is watching him, and his face falls.

"We can't do this -- "

"Phil!"

"Here. We can't do this here," Phil finishes, ignoring Clint's interruption. He reaches for Clint's hand, holding it in both of his, relieved when Clint doesn't pull away. "We're working, Clint. We're here on an op, and that has to be our priority."

Clint nods, but his eyes are shuttered, and Phil lets go of Clint's hand with one of his to cup Clint's cheek with his palm. He waits until Clint looks up, and he has to take a deep breath at the desperate hope swimming in those gorgeous eyes.

"I'm not going to change my mind, Clint. When this op is over, when we're home and safe, I would like to take you out to dinner, and explore the idea of something more than friendship with you."

Clint's eyes are clear and happy now as he gives Phil a smile and squeezes his hand. "Yeah, you know that's kind of a sure bet, right?"

Phil grins. "Then it'll be a short talk, won't it? And the sooner we get done here, the sooner we can have it. So you take first shower."

With another squeeze of his hand, Clint nods, bounding off the bed. He heads for the bathroom, grabbing his pack along the way, and Phil _knows_ he's added an extra swing to his hips. Just as he reaches the door, he glances back over his shoulder, shooting a breathtaking grin at Phil before closing the door behind him.

Phil takes a calming breath, rubbing his hand over his face, suddenly overwhelmed by it all as he takes in the mess of blankets and pillows around him. He imagines lying in bed every morning, curled up and cuddling, receiving Clint's kisses and watching him strut around their bedroom like that, and he smiles, wondering if he can find some way to tip the desk clerk.

**END**


End file.
